Ghosts From The Past
by Jennifer Cannon
Summary: Amanda lays her personal demons to rest. This story follows directly after Tea and Secrets.
1. Chapter 1

*The usual disclaimers apply. This story is a continuation of Tea and Secrets  
>and will be followed by a third story. Thanks to the Wicky Gals for their help and<br>support and a very special thanks to Ermintrude for all her help with this and  
>for being a fantastic beta. Enjoy :)*<p>

**Ghosts From the Past-Part One**

**Q-Bureau **

**Tuesday, April 6, 2004**

**2:30 PM**

"_You knew I'd come back, Amanda—one day." _

_That voice—she'd never forget that voice. His dark eyes stared down into hers—they seemed to stare down into her very soul. Amanda tried to move, but she seemed to be frozen—her limbs wouldn't obey. Sensing her fear, Birol smiled widely as his hand reached down towards her—_

"_Amanda—"_

"_No—please—" She struggled weakly but he wouldn't let her go—his grip felt like iron._

"Amanda!"

It was Lee's voice, not Birol's, Amanda realized. His arms were holding her. The Q-Bureau came back into focus—the papers on her desk—

'Must've fallen asleep while working again', she thought. Lately it had become a bad habit with her.

"Amanda?" her husband's voice broke into her reverie. He stared at her, his hazel eyes full of concern.

"I'm fine," she managed to say. "I just had a bad dream, that's all. I'm fine." She repeated it again, not sure if she was trying to convince him or herself.

"About Birol?" Lee asked. Amanda didn't answer, looking down and away from him. "It was about him, wasn't it? Answer me, Amanda—please."

"Yes," she replied, her voice low. "It was about him. But it's not a big deal."

"Not a big deal?" Lee said. "It's the third time this week—you've been having them for a couple of weeks now."

Actually it had been more than a couple of weeks, Amanda knew—she'd been having these dreams for at least a couple of months. But Lee didn't know that. He didn't know about the times when she had woken up in bed—heart pounding—times when she'd lain there silently with him beside her, listening to the sounds of his breathing and to the gentle tick-tock of the clock on the nightstand, hoping to soothe herself back into sleep. Part of her wanted to tell him—tell him everything—

Did she really want to do that, though? She was supposed to be a professional, after all—did she want to let Lee know how much this was really bothering her? He was looking at her now, waiting for an answer.

"Well, is it really so surprising that I'm having these dreams?" She told him, indicating the folder on her desk. "I mean, with what we're working on—"

"Amanda, listen." Lee knelt beside her, taking his hands in hers. "What we're working on deals with Karbala—with Faisal and finding Alice Murphy. Nothing we've uncovered so far points to Birol—nothing." He could see the doubt in her expression—he squeezed her hands, trying to convince her with his words. "He's in prison, Amanda—he's not getting out any time soon."

"Maybe," Amanda replied. "But we haven't found everything, Lee. We haven't found Faisal—we haven't found any trace of Alice Murphy—it's like they've disappeared off the face of the earth."

"None of those things point towards Birol," Lee countered.

"They could. Birol had a huge network, Lee—even in prison he could—"

"He had a huge network." Lee squeezed her hands again. "Past on, you heard what Billy said. Karbala is Faisal's baby now. Birol is out of the picture—he really is."

Out of the picture. Part of her wanted to believe that—she really did.

At that moment the phone rang.

"Excuse me." Releasing her hands Lee stood, lifting the receiver on Amanda's desk. "Stetson here." He paused briefly. "Yeah, we'll be right there—thanks." He hung up the phone. "That was Francine—she wants to see us in the map room."

Amanda rose from her desk. "Well than we should go then—there's no time to waste."

"Amanda, wait," Lee told her. "Just a minute. I meant what I said, all right? Birol is out of this."

"I know—I know you meant it." Amanda paused, trying to gather her thoughts. "It's just—I keep remembering what Karbala and Birol did to us before—when I heard that name again it all came back. And part of me can't stop thinking of what he could do now—to us—to our family—"

"He won't."Lee pulled his wife close. "That bastard's in prison, Amanda—he's never going to hurt us again. We're going to end Karbala—we'll pull this network down for good, I promise."

"For good," Amanda repeated as her arms wrapped around him tightly. "I know we will."

She could only hope and pray that she was right.

**SMK SMK SMK SMK**

**4247 Maplewood Dr.**

**6:05 PM**

"_Police are still gathering evidence and interviewing witnesses in the case of the Arlington tire slasher," _the radio announcer intoned. _"But at this time there are no leads and no suspects. Anyone with any information is asked to call—" _

"No leads," Amanda muttered to herself. "Of course." No leads—it seemed to be the story of her life these days. She opened the fridge and knelt down, pulling a head of lettuce and a package of cherry tomatoes from the crisper drawer. Amanda put the cherry tomatoes in the colander for rinsing and unwrapped the lettuce, placing it on the cutting board. Now for the lettuce knife—not in the silverware drawer or in the dishwasher. Finally, Amanda found it in the drainer along with the dishes from last night's supper—Jenna had done the washing but as usual she'd forgotten to dry and put everything away.

If only everything in her life was so easily found, she thought. Unwrapping the head of lettuce Amanda used the plastic knife to cut it into two neat halves, setting one half aside.

"Oh it smells wonderful in here," Dotty announced as she came into the kitchen. "I certainly hope that's what we're having tonight."

"It is, Mother" Amanda said. "I put some pot roast in the slow cooker this morning. I'm just making a little side salad to go along with it."

Dotty nodded. "Sounds very nice."

"Hopefully it will be." Amanda chopped the lettuce into small pieces, putting it in the colander along with the tomatoes. "And I sent Lee and Jenna to the store to get some salad dressing. Did you and the colonel have a nice time?"

Dotty nodded. "We had a little picnic in Rock Creek Park and then walked around a bit—it was just too nice a day to stay inside."

"Yeah, I know what you mean." Amanda put the colander in the sink and grabbed the vegetable sprayer. "I'm glad you two had fun."

"Well, you know—" Dotty gave a little shrug. "Nothing may come of it—I don't know if it's the same as what Captain Curt and I had, but the colonel's a good friend—and it's nice to get out of the house and do something every once in a while."

"Yes it definitely is," Amanda agreed.

"Speaking of which, it might not hurt you and Lee take a little time for yourselves—get away from it all—"

She should have known that she was building up to this. Amanda let out her breath in a quiet sigh. "Mo-ther—"

"Amanda, why not? Go away for a weekend—Jenna and I can cope by ourselves, believe me." Dotty placed a hand on her daughter's shoulder. "You've been working much too hard these days—if you just took some time—"

"Well, I can't !" Amanda snapped—immediately regretting the outburst when she saw the hurt in her mother's eyes. She rushed to explain. "It isn't that I wouldn't like to, mother—but this case—"

"Still nothing with Alice Murphy?" Dotty asked, her voice quiet.

Amanda shook her head."Nothing at all—it's like she's vanished into thin air." Along with Faisal and any chance of finding Karbala—she added silently, knowing that she couldn't tell her mother any of that. "I guess it's just frustrating me, that's all."

"It's understandable," Dotty replied. "And it's all the more reason to take a little time-off from all this—get a fresh perspective, as they say."

Her mother never gave up—despite everything Amanda found herself beginning to smile. "That's true."

"Of course it is," Dotty said. "And besides, that woman's like a bad penny, Amanda—she's bound to turn up sooner or later."

"I hope so—but at the moment we—" Amanda's voice broke off as she heard the front door open.

"Dad, I don't know what you're so upset about." Jenna's voice. "I did exactly what you told me to."

"No," Lee replied as he strode into the kitchen, Jenna following behind. "I told you to follow the white line, Jenna—not drive directly on it—you were practically in the middle of the road."

"Well last time you said I was too close to the cars parked on the side," Jenna placed the bag on the kitchen table. "I just wanted to be extra careful—hi Mom, hi Grandma."

"Well, hello, there," Amanda shut off her faucet and turned to face her daughter. "So, did you and your dad practice driving again?"

Jenna nodded. "Well—he let me drive home, anyway. I think I'm getting a little better."

"You are, munchkin," Lee told her. "You just need to practice staying on one side of the road."

"You'll get better, sweetheart, I promise," Amanda said.

"Yes, you will," Dotty added. "It just takes lots of practice—and believe me, I know."

Jenna smiled. "Yeah, I'll just keep working at it," she said. "By the way, we got blue cheese and ranch—we couldn't find any of that honey mustard stuff. I hope that's okay."

"I'm sure it's just—"Amanda started to say when the voice of the radio announcer broke in.

"And in other news, the body of the man that was discovered just below Little Creek Falls Dam just before dawn this morning has been identified as that of 39-year-old Charles Edward Rendell. No cause of death has yet been determined. In Prince William County this morning—"

Rendell, Amanda thought—dear God—Karbala had made its next move. Lee stood by her side now, his hand supporting her back.

"Mom?" Jenna was staring at her now, her expression puzzled. "Are you okay?"

It took a few seconds before she could speak. "I'm all right," Amanda managed to say. "I guess I just zoned out for a second or two. Listen why don't you go upstairs and get washed up—I'll have dinner ready in just a minute."

"Okay," Jenna's voice was filled with doubt. "As long as you're sure—"

"She's just fine, munchkin." Lee spoke up. "Just go upstairs and wash up, okay?"

For a moment it looked like Jenna might argue again; instead she simply nodded. "Okay. I love you, Mom."

"Love you too, sweetheart."

**TBC**


	2. Chapter 2

***For disclaimers see Part One. Enjoy :) ***

**Ghosts from the Past-Part Two**

**The Agency **

**Wednesday, April 7 2004**

**8:50 AM**

"Charles Rendell," Billy said, handing a folder to both Lee and Amanda. "I'm not sure if you heard about it, but it was all over the news yesterday."

Amanda nodded as she began to leaf through the folder. "He was fished out of the Potomac yesterday morning."

"That's it," Billy said. "We're still waiting for the autopsy results, but for now it looks as though he was probably beaten to death."

"Guess that's what happened when he didn't come through with the goods," Lee replied, his expression grim.

"Any leads yet on Faisal's whereabouts?" Billy asked.

Lee shook his head. "No, nothing yet. Not on him or Alice Murphy—it's like they've both disappeared into thin air. And Faisal could be running his operation from anywhere—he doesn't even need to be in the country."

"Or somebody here could be running it for him," Amanda said. "Someone like Birol, maybe—"

"Except there's no proof of that," Lee's voice rose slightly.

"That still doesn't mean anything," Amanda retorted. Lee said nothing in response; he looked away from his wife, letting out a noisy sigh and running both hands back through this hair.

Something was definitely going on, Billy thought as he watched the couple. He hadn't missed the way Amanda's face had paled; her voice trembling slightly as she'd mentioned Birol's name—come to think of it, it wasn't the first time that had happened, either.

Time to find out what this was all about. He rose from his chair.

"I'll let you know when the autopsy results come in," Billy told them. "It's a long shot, but maybe they'll tell us something. In the meantime keep me informed."

"Will do, Billy," Lee replied.

"Oh, and Amanda," Billy continued. "Could you stay behind for a moment? There's something I'd like to discuss with you in private. Lee?"

"I'll see you back in the Q-Bureau," Lee said. Amanda gave a brief nod—Lee gave his wife's shoulder a squeeze before he left, closing the door behind him.

Billy turned to Amanda. "How are you doing?" he asked her gently.

"Fine, Sir—I'm fine," Amanda said, her gaze not meeting his.

"And how are things with Jenna? Still doing the driving lessons?"

"Fine—Lee's trying to work with her as well."

"Well I can only imagine how that's going," Billy remarked drily, recalling his own misadventures in teaching his daughters how to drive. Amanda didn't reply. Enough beating about the bush, Billy thought—he decided to come right out with it.

.

"I noticed the way you looked when you mentioned Birol," he said, watching her dark eyes widen in response to the name. "This is still bothering you—isn't it? Even though it was so long ago?" For a few moments she was silent, staring down at her hands. "Amanda?"

Amanda sighed. "I thought I was over it," she admitted finally, looking up at him. "I mean, I was over it. But seeing that name again—knowing that Mrs. Murphy had been working with them and how close she'd come to our family—it just seemed to bring a lot of it back. And I know in my head that Lee's right—no evidence points towards Birol—but I can't seem to stop feeling this way."

"Believe me, I understand," Billy replied. "How have you been sleeping?"

"On and off—I have dreams sometimes—that keeps me awake."

"So this isn't doing any of you any good," Billy said. "And I'd be willing to bet this is affecting your home life in other ways—isn't it?"

Was it? Until recently she thought she'd been doing a good job keeping home and work separate—compartmentalizing—sometimes it was something you almost had to do to survive in this field—

But then Amanda remembered what her mother had said last night—the concern in Jenna's face—

Maybe she wasn't doing such a good job, after all.

"I'll take your silence as an affirmative," Billy said. "Amanda, I really think that you might want to talk to Dr. Pfaff about this—get some help before it becomes an even bigger issue."

"Yeah," Amanda spoke softly. "Yeah I think you're right."

"You and Lee are still one of the best teams this Agency has, you know—I don't want anything to jeopardize that." He patted her shoulder. "You take care of yourself, Amanda."

"I will sir—and thank you."

**SMK SMK SMK SMK**

**12:00 PM**

"Come right, in Amanda," Dr. Pfaff said. "Take a seat—or the couch, if you prefer."

"I'll take a chair," Amanda replied. He did this every single time, she thought—it was like a routine. She knew exactly what his next question would be.

"Ice cream?" he asked.

"No thanks—I'm fine." Amanda lowered herself into a nearby chair and Pfaff sat on the couch directly facing her.

"So, what can I do for you?" he asked her.

He wasn't going to make this easy—not that it was all that easy to begin with. Amanda drew in a deep breath and let it out before she began.

"It's this case," she said. "Ever since I found out that Karbala was involved—things have been—they've just been difficult."

"I see," Dr Pfaff rose from the couch. "You don't mind if I get myself an ice cream, do you?"

Amanda smiled faintly. "No, I don't mind."

"Good." Dr. Pfaff knelt beside the freezer, grabbing an ice cream sandwich. "I had a small lunch at half-past but I think I'm still hungry." He sat back down on the sofa and unwrapped the sandwich, taking a small bite. His eyes stared at her over the rims of his glasses. "Difficult in what way, exactly?"

"I've been having these dreams lately," Amanda replied. "Only I guess you'd call them nightmares, really."

"About Karbala—about Birol?" Pfaff asked. Amanda nodded. "And what do these dreams involve? Things that happened in the past?"

"Sometimes," Amanda said. "But usually they deal with Birol coming back—the things he could do to me and to my family."

"I see—and how long have you been having these dreams?"

"About—" Amanda had to think back. "I would say that the first one happened in mid-February."

"And how frequent have they been?" he asked."Weekly? Nightly?"

"Well, at first it wasn't very often," Amanda explained. "Maybe once every two weeks or so, but lately they've been worse."

"Coming more often." Dr. Pfaff nodded, as if that was the answer he'd been expecting to hear. "And how many leads have there been on Karbala recently?"

"Apart from Rendell's death, not many."

"And the death happened yesterday. Did you dream last night?"

"Yes, I did."

"Can you tell me what the dream was about?"

"It was Jenna," Amanda replied. "Birol had her—a gun to her head—he was going to kill her." As Amanda spoke the images flooded her mind:

"_One squeeze," Birol had taunted her as he pulled Jenna close, his arm around her neck—the barrel of the gun jammed against her head. "One little squeeze of the trigger and it's all over for your daughter. Is that what you want, Amanda?" _

"_Mom," Jenna had whispered, tears rolling silently down her face. "Please—" Amanda felt as though she were frozen in place; looking over at her husband she could see his expression—the same helplessness she felt reflected there. _

"_Say goodbye." Birol pulled the trigger—_

"So in your dream Birol actually shot her?"

"Yes," Amanda's voice trembled slightly—wiping at her eyes she was surprised to find they were wet. "I didn't actually see her fall but I heard the gun go off—I knew that he'd shot her."

"In your dream, he shot her." Pfaff said. "Is it usually Jenna in your dreams?"

"Not always—sometimes it's Mother, or the boys—different scenarios."

"Just family in general," Pfaff said. "And did your dream wake up anyone else last night?"

"Not last night, no."

She'd awoken from the dream with a start—breathing hard—her forehead damp with sweat. Beside her Lee had stirred, reminding her of where she was—that it had all been a dream. Amanda had snuggled close to him and without hesitation his arms had wrapped around her, pulling her against his chest. She'd lain there, listening to the steady sound of his heartbeat as it lulled her back to sleep….

"Have the dreams woken Lee before?" Dr. Pfaff's voice brought her back to the present.

"Once or twice, yes," Amanda said.

"What about your mother? Or Jenna?"

"No sir—not as far as I know."

"So they have no idea that something is bothering you?"

"I wouldn't say that." Amanda thought back to her mother's suggestion that she and Lee should take a vacation—the worry she'd seen in Jenna's face last night. "I think they know that something is bothering me—actually, I know that they know—they just don't know the details."

"That's understandable," Pfaff replied. "At this point it sounds like this is affecting most aspects of your life." He paused, taking a bite of his ice-cream sandwich. "The only thing I have to ask is why I'm hearing about this now when it's been going on since February."

"I just—" Amanda struggled for the right words to explain. "I thought I had gotten past all this—past the stuff with Birol—I guess that I didn't want anyone to know that I hadn't—and I thought that maybe I could deal with it on my own and no one would have to know—except that it seems to be getting worse."

"I see." The ice-cream finished, Dr. Pfaff balled up the wrapper, depositing it in the wastepaper basket. "How much of this do you think actually concerns Addi Birol?"

Amanda stared. "What do you mean? The dreams are about him."

"I understand that he's in the dreams," Dr. Pfaff replied. "But I also recall working with you after the kidnapping, Amanda—you and I dealt with that and you did get past it."

That's what she had thought too, Amanda thought to herself. "Maybe I was wrong," she said aloud. "Maybe I only thought that I'd dealt with it."

"Maybe," he said. "But personally I think you did deal with it. I don't think that's what these dreams are about—at least not completely."

"Then what are they about?" Amanda asked him.

"You said in most of the dreams that Birol is coming after your family—why do you think that is?"

Why—Amanda wasn't sure that she even knew how to answer that. "I think it might be because this is the first time that he's ever come close to my family," she said. "Before it was just me and Lee—but this is the first time I've ever felt like they've been threatened."

"You mean that this is the first time that Karbala has come close to your family," Dr. Pfaff reminded her. "Do you feel as if Karbala has targeted your family directly?"

"I don't know," Amanda responded. "I'm not sure that I could say that for certain."

"And yet that's what your dreams have been about." He leaned forward slightly. "Tell me, do you think that Colonel Clayton was targeted because of his relationship to your family?"

"No, of course not—it was because of his rank and security clearance. But he –I mean Karbala—" she corrected herself automatically—if Pfaff noticed the slip he gave no sign. "Karbala could've found out about his connection to us through the colonel."

"What Karbala discovered is that the colonel had a family nearby," Dr. Pfaff said. "That doesn't mean that they uncovered your identity or your ties to the intelligence community."

Amanda thought back to the times when the colonel had been approached—at his home—the coffee shop—the phone call at Christmastime—so many times—who knew what he might have given away during those sessions? "It doesn't mean that they didn't."

"The taped sessions show they were interested in gathering military information," the doctor continued calmly. "Any personal talk was merely used to relax the subject and lower their inhibitions."

"Yes, I know that." Amanda could hear the defensiveness in her voice, but at the same time she couldn't seem to help it. "But some of the taped sessions haven't been found yet—we still don't know everything."

"But you still think that Birol might be involved? Even though he's been in a maximum-security prison for over sixteen years?"

Amanda hesitated—put that way it did actually seem pretty flimsy. She could hear the soft tick of the clock in the background—Dr. Pfaff's eyes on her. "He might be. I know he'd hurt me and my family if he had the chance—I won't be satisfied until I know for sure."

"And if you did know for sure that Birol wasn't involved—would that stop the nightmares then?"

Would it? Part of her thought it might—at the same time everything felt jumbled and confused—Amanda couldn't quite shake the feeling that she was missing something—something obvious. In her head though, she could still see the dream image—her daughter's terrified face in front of her—Birol's gun to her head.

"_Say goodbye…."_

"I think it might help," she said finally. "It would help to put my fears to rest."

Silence followed—Dr. Pfaff glanced at his watch—he cleared his throat as he rose to his feet.

"I think we should end this session now, Amanda" he told her. "But I would like to continue this at some other time—perhaps this Friday—the same time?"

Amanda nodded. "I'll be there."

"Good," Pfaff replied. "In the meantime try to relax and not overwork yourself—take your mind off things as much as you can."

"I'll try, sir," Amanda told him. "And thank you."

**SMK SMK SMK SMK **

**Q-Bureau**

**12:35 PM**

"So what did Pfaff have to say?" Lee asked as she entered the Q-Bureau, closing the door behind her. "What did you two talk about?"

"Basically about the dreams I've been having." Amanda lowered herself onto the sofa. "The dreams about Birol—only I don't think that he believes that Birol is involved."

"Well for once we actually agree on something." Lee said as he took a seat beside his wife, taking her hands in his. "I don't think that Birol's involved in Karbala either—at least not anymore."

"Lee, it's not just that." Amanda could see the confusion in his eyes. She rushed to explain. "He said that he doesn't believe that my dreams are actually about Birol—he doesn't think that he's the issue."

"So? What do you think?"

"I really—I don't know," she said. "I mean, when I'm dreaming it seems very real—he's there—threatening my family—if it's not about him, then what is it about?"

"Honestly? Amanda, I think that you're the only one who has the answer to that."

"Somehow I knew you were going to say that."

Lee laughed softly. "Yeah." He paused, running his thumbs along the back of her hands. This wasn't going to be easy for him to say, but he had to say it. "I know that you've been having these dreams for a while now—for a lot longer than you've told me."

"You knew that?" Amanda asked softly. Lee nodded. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"I guess I was waiting for you to open up—to tell me on your own," Lee replied. "What I didn't understand was why you were shutting me out."

Amanda could see the brief flash of pain in his eyes as he spoke—she'd never meant to hurt him. "I wasn't trying to shut you out, exactly," she said. "It's just all the stuff with Birol—I thought I'd dealt with it in the past—but now—"

"Oh, Amanda—" Lee gathered her into his arms. "We're in this together, remember? You and me—that's what you've always said."

"Lee, I know that—really I do." Amanda drew in a deep breath and let it out. "The thing is, it was hard for me to admit it—even to myself."

"Believe me," Lee told her. "I understand." He paused. "Have you had these problems before? Thoughts about Birol?"

"Not really, no. I mean, there were things right after it happened, and during the trial, of course—but after that not really. Pfaff gave me a clean bill of health and cleared me for duty."

"Is that why he says that the problem isn't Birol?"

"That's part of it," Amanda replied. "And to be honest, part of me thinks he could be right. It was just—seeing that name again—Karbala—and knowing how close he came to our family—it seemed to bring a lot of it back."

"Amanda—"

"I just think about what he could do to mother, or Jenna—even the boys—it's like something in my head that I can't switch off."

"There's still no evidence that points to Birol's involvement." Lee said. "And believe me—we've looked." His arms tightened around her. "Karbala's interest in the colonel was because of his rank—there's no reason why anyone in our family should be a target."

"You've said that before," Amanda told him. "Pfaff said it too—and I know that you're both probably right—I do. It's just these thoughts—I can't seem to stop them. And I tell myself that maybe they'll stop once I know for sure—but I don't know if even that will help."

"When's your next session?"

"This Friday—though I'm not sure if it'll do any good."

"Don't think like that." Lee pulled back, his eyes looking deeply into her own. "We're going to get through this—we'll get through it together. Okay, Mrs. Stetson?"

A ghost of a smile crossed Amanda's lips. "Okay, Mr. Stetson."

**SMK SMK SMK SMK**

**4247 Maplewood Dr**

**9:10 PM**

Her daughter.

For a moment Amanda just stood in the bedroom doorway just watching her. Jenna lay on the bed on her stomach, sock feet in the air. Straight, shoulder-length hair was tucked behind one ear, her face a mask of concentration as she stared down at her homework.

Growing up so fast, Amanda thought to herself—a lump rose in her throat. Somehow it seemed like only yesterday that she'd been a little girl—it had been only yesterday, hadn't it?

And now….

Jenna must have sensed her standing there—she looked up at her and smiled.

"Hey Mom," she said. "Just finishing this social studies stuff—I'll be done in a minute, I promise."

"You're just fine, sweetheart," Amanda walked into the room, sitting on the edge of her bed. "What are you studying now?"

"Separation of powers," Jenna replied. "You know, the Judicial, Legislative and the Executive? Mr. Atkinson divided the class up into threes and tomorrow we have to list the powers and duties of the branch we belong to and discuss what checks that branch puts on the others."

"I think I remember Phillip doing something like that in school," Amanda said. "So, which branch did you get?"

Jenna let out a sigh. "Legislative. It's a lot of stuff but I've got it all—at least I hope I do."

Amanda rubbed her back. "I'm sure you'll do just fine, sweetheart."

"Yeah." Jenna closed the book and notebook, placing both in her backpack and zipping it up. "But I'll look it over again in the morning—just to be on the safe side. Mom—can I just ask you something?"

The sudden change in subject took her aback "Sure, Jenna," Amanda said. "You can ask me anything you want."

"Is something bothering you? I mean—I don't want to pry if it's something to do with work or a case or something, but lately you've just seemed kind of tense—and sometimes I hear you walking around at night."

Jenna had noticed too—just like her mother and Lee—she thought she'd been doing a good job of hiding it—but all this time—

"I hope I'm not being nosy," Jenna continued. "You don't have to answer if you don't want to, Mom-I just wondered."

"It's a good question," Amanda told her. "And you're not prying. And yes, there has been something bothering me— and it's something to do with work."

"You can't tell me what?"

"No," Amanda smoothed Jenna's hair back from her face. "I can't give you details, but I can tell you that I'm getting help for it."

"Help? You mean from Dr. Pfaff?"

"Yes, I am talking to Dr. Pfaff."

"Well that's good," Jenna replied. "He helped me a lot—especially with sleeping. Did you know that I still do my relaxation exercises before bed?"

Amanda smiled. "No, but I think that's a good habit to get into."

"I still remember the first time I did them," Jenna said. "You held my hand so I wouldn't be scared."

"I remember that too, sweetheart."

"You can do them with me, you know," Jenna suggested. "If you want to. Maybe it'll help you sleep better."

Maybe it would, Amanda thought—a good night's sleep was definitely something that she would like to have. "I'd love to do them with you," she said, hugging her daughter briefly. "Where do we start?"

"Okay, well first we lie back on the bed," Jenna instructed. "Close your eyes—just concentrate on your breathing—slow and very deep breaths—feel your muscles relaxing as you do—everything going limp— now take a very deep breath and hold it for a few seconds—and then let it out."

Amanda held her breath and then let out the air in a whoosh. This was working—already she was starting to feel more relaxed.

"That's good," Jenna continued. "Now—starting with your leg muscles you can tense the muscles and hold it— then relax them—noticing how relaxed your muscles feel—next your arms, beginning with your hands—squeeze the muscles as tight as you can—don't forget to focus on breathing."

It really did help, Amanda thought as they worked up through the arms, the back, the chest and stomach—even the facial muscles. Until now she hadn't realized just how much tension she'd been holding there. Everything felt loose and relaxed; she imagined that her body could almost melt into the mattress itself.

"Okay—take a few minutes and just keep breathing." Even Jenna's voice sounded different now—much calmer than it had been before. "When you feel ready, you can open your eyes."

Amanda opened her eyes and sat up. Lee stood in the doorway, smiling at them.

"Hi Dad," Jenna said. "Mom and I were just doing the relaxation exercises together."

"I saw," Lee said as he entered the room. "And I think it was a good idea."

"It was an excellent idea, sweetheart—thank you." Slowly Amanda stood, Lee's arm supporting her.

Jenna smiled again. "You're welcome." Rising to her knees she gave her mom a hug. "Have a good night's sleep, okay? I love you, Mom."

"I love you too, Jenna." Amanda returned the hug. "Good night."

Lee ruffled Jenna's hair. "Night, munchkin."

**SMK SMK SMK SMK**

"You know, I think it's good that Jenna's still doing those exercises." Amanda sank down onto her bed.

"Couldn't agree more," Lee replied. "Anything that helps her is good."

"Yeah—managing stress—that's a really—it's a good thing." The last part of that sentence came out in a kind of half-yawn.

"Now if only she could keep to keep the car in one lane—that would be a big step."

Amanda smiled. "She'll get there, Lee—don't worry." She leaned back onto her pillow, her eyes slowly closing. So soft—a pleasant weariness began to seep into her bones. She felt Lee's arms around her, pulling her body back against his—his nearness comforted her.

"Y'know—" Amanda murmured. "I think I might sleep really well tonight."

"Well that's a good thing too." Lee said. His lips claimed her own in a brief yet passionate kiss. "Good night, Amanda—I love you."

"Love you too."

**TBC**


	3. Chapter 3

***For disclaimers, see Part One ***

**Ghosts From the Past-Part Three**

**Thursday, April 8 2004**

**Q-Bureau**

**9:35 AM **

"I don't want to get your hopes up too much, but it looks like we might have a lead." Billy handed them each a folder. "A jogger who claims to have witnessed the murder—one Rebecca Colgan."

"Believe me, any lead helps." Lee opened the folder, looking down at a black and white photo of a woman with short dark hair. "So why didn't she come forward earlier when she originally witnessed it?"

"Claims that she was too scared," Billy replied. "Said that she was afraid she'd be a target, but the more she thought about it the more she decided that she needed to do something."

"Has she come in to look at mug shots or to make a sketch yet?" Amanda asked.

Billy shook his head. "So far she's been very elusive—she doesn't seem to trust anybody at this point. The address she gave us was for a Super 8 Motel in Camp Springs, Maryland—Room 335."

"Meaning no permanent address." Lee sighed, running a hand back through his hair. "I don't know, Billy—something about the whole thing sounds a little off to me."

"I admit it's flimsy," Billy said. "But we ran a preliminary background check and everything turned up clean. She claims she saw him clearly—right now we have no reason to doubt her."

"Do we have a way to contact this woman? " Lee wanted to know. "Apart from the hotel, I mean?"

"Just a cell phone number," Billy said. "Right now your job is to find a way to gain her trust and bring her in—it's urgent that we find out exactly what she does know."

Hopefully this woman would know something—Amanda thought, looking down at the photo—the eyes of the woman seemed to stare back up at her. Something—anything that would help them crack this case—this was the first actual lead in months. "We'll do our best, sir," she told Billy.

Billy smiled. "I know you will—and in the meantime we'll see what else we can find out about this Rebecca Colgan. Good luck."

"Thanks Billy." Luck—Lee had a distinct feeling they were going to need it in this case.

**SMK SMK SMK SMK **

**House of Lee Restaurant**

**Camp Springs, Maryland **

**1:35 PM **

"Thank you for agreeing to meet me here," Rebecca Colgan said as she slid into the booth facing them, removing her hat and sunglasses. "I'm sorry that I've been so hard to contact—it's just that I wasn't sure who I could trust. You understand."

"Yes of course we understand," Amanda replied. "But believe me, Ms. Colgan—contacting us was definitely the right thing to do."

Rebecca bit down on her lower lip. "I certainly hope so." She cast a quick glance out of the nearby window. "I only hope that I wasn't followed."

Followed—Lee and Amanda shared a quick glance. "Do you have reason to believe that someone might follow you?" Lee asked her.

"Well naturally." Rebecca's tone suggested that she was stating the obvious. "I imagine that with what I know quite a few people would be anxious to get their hands on me."

"Because of the murder you—" Amanda started to ask a question but Rebecca held up her hand, signaling for silence.

"Just a minute, please. Excuse me!" She called out to a passing waitress, who turned around. "Do you know if this glass is tinted or not?"

"Glass?" the waitress raised her eyebrows.

"In the windows," Rebecca pounded the window with her fist for emphasis. "Do you know if anyone can see inside?"

"I'm not sure, ma'am." the waitress replied cautiously. "But we can always draw the blinds if you want."

Rebecca hesitated as she looked outside once more. "On second thought, no—I think we're fine for now."

If the waitress was thrown by this she didn't show it—she gave a quick nod. "Someone will be out to take your drink orders shortly." With that she turned and walked away, disappearing into the kitchen.

"She must be new or something," Rebecca said. "It was a simple question, I think. Now, what did you want to ask me, Ms—?"

"Stetson—Amanda Stetson." They'd only been here a short while, but Amanda was beginning to have the distinct feeling that this woman wasn't playing with a completely full deck. Looking at the expression on her husband's face, she knew that he was thinking the same thing. "Do you think that you might be followed because of the murder you witnessed?"

"Definitely," Rebecca answered. "Especially since I know the name of the perpetrator. Granted, it's been a while since I've seen him but I could recognize him anywhere."

"So this is someone you know well?" Lee asked.

"Yes—that's why I couldn't be too careful about who I trusted," Rebecca said. "He has spies everywhere, you know."

Spies everywhere, Amanda thought—this was sounding less credible by the minute. "Can you give us his name?"

The woman nodded. "His name is Steve Colgan." Her voice lowered to a near whisper as she leaned towards them. "He's my ex-husband."

"You're sure that's who you saw kill Charles Rendell?" Lee asked.

"Of course I'm sure," Rebecca said. "I was jogging that Monday morning when I saw them near the dam—on the path right above them. I crouched down behind the rocks so they wouldn't see me. They were arguing but I couldn't hear what they were saying—the voices were too far away. But I did see my husband hit the man—the one in the dark coat—he hit him a few times."

Everything she'd told them fit with the facts so far, Lee knew—Rendell had been beaten with a stick, he'd been wearing a dark coat and there was a jogging path directly above the dam—as strange and coincidental as it appeared, he had to admit that she might actually have something. "Do you think he might have seen you—your husband?"

"I'm not sure," Rebecca replied. "He did look up once but I don't know if he actually saw me. That's why I was so scared, you see—and he has my children—I was afraid he might do something—I just don't know. So what do I do next?"

Lee and Amanda exchanged another glance. "We would need you to come in to the Agency and file a report," Amanda told her. "Also if you have a current location for your husband, that would be useful."

Rebecca gave another nod. "I can do that."

**SMK SMK SMK SMK **

"So?" Amanda asked her husband as they got into the 'Vette. "What did you think?"

"Honestly? I'm not sure." Lee put the car into gear and they pulled out of the restaurant parking lot—looking out his window he could see Rebecca's car following behind them. "I mean, she could have something—everything she gave us fits with the facts, but—"

"But what she gave us could've been pieced together from news reports." Amanda finished his sentence. "She didn't give us anything that wasn't already public knowledge—she might just have an axe to grind against her ex-husband."

"True," Lee replied. "We'll run a background on Mr. Colgan—see what turns up."

"Well if he has any links to Karbala or Birol, that'll be a big red flag—we do know that Karbala's behind this." Lee was silent for a few moments, staring straight ahead. "Lee?" Amanda repeated.

"It's possible that it's connected to Karbala," Lee admitted. "But we also have to consider that there might have been other people with a motive to kill Rendell—we can't jump to conclusions just yet."

Lee had a point, Amanda knew. All along they'd been assuming that this must be connected with the case when it could be something completely different—at the moment they simply didn't know.

But if it wasn't Karbala—then who? And why? The thought that their lead might vanish—the only lead they'd had to this organization in months—it frightened her more than she cared to admit. Her hands clenched, fingernails digging into her palms.

"Amanda?" Lee glanced over at her. "You okay?"

"Fine." Amanda could see the worry in his eyes—she managed to force a small smile. "We'll run the background and see what we find—and then we'll just deal with it—I guess."

Who was she trying to convince—him or herself? Amanda honestly wasn't sure. They pulled up to a stoplight and Lee reached over—his hand found her own and he gave it a gentle squeeze.

"Sounds like a plan to me, Mrs. Stetson," he replied.

**SMK SMK SMK SMK **

**The Agency**

**4:35 PM **

"There don't seem to be any visible links between Steve Colgan and Karbala," Francine replied as she glanced through the stack of paper on her desk. "The only visible link between Colgan and Rendell seems to be that they both attended Brown at the same time and they both went to the Peace Corps after graduation."

"That is something, though, isn't it?" Amanda asked. "I mean it's proof that they might have known each other, for one—and the Peace Corps was when Rendell initially got involved with Karbala. It sounds to me like a definite link."

"On the surface, possibly." Francine's tone was filled with doubt. "But Rendell's major was in communications while Colgan's degree was in biomedical engineering—two completely different departments. Brown is a large university, Amanda—it's possible that they never met each other."

"But it's possible that they did," Amanda countered. "What about in the Peace Corps?"

Francine shook her head. "Even less likely, I'm afraid. Rendell spent his time in the middle east while Colgan was stationed in Chad and Nigeria. But there is something interesting in his background—for the past five years Steve Colgan and his ex-wife seem to have been in and out of the court system on a variety of things."

"What kind of things?" Lee asked.

"Well the first one was a motion filed by his wife contesting the divorce," Francine said. "She actually fought it for two years—even tried to say that the affidavit that they signed to get their mortgage required him to stay in the marriage or make the payments alone. Even after the divorce was granted she didn't stop—at one point he even accused her of stalking and filed for a restraining order."

Someone with an axe to grind, Lee thought of what Amanda had said earlier. Rebecca Colgan definitely fit the bill in that department. Looking at this wife he could see the disappointment in her expression. "Even with all that there still could be something to it—this woman could've witnessed something."

"Yes, I know," Francine replied. "That's why I want you to go and question Steve Colgan—we have an address listing for him in Franklin—see what he knows about this situation. We have to follow up on every lead with this case."

"We'll do that right away," Amanda replied.

**SMK SMK SMK SMK **

**201 N Charles St **

**5:25 PM **

"Come right in, please," the young blond woman greeted them at the door. "I'm Michelle, Steve's wife—it's very nice to meet you."

"It's nice to meet you too," Amanda said as they stepped inside, going through the foyer into the spacious front room.

"Take a seat," Michelle gestured towards the sofa. "Steve's expecting you –he'll be here in just a moment. Can I get you anything to drink while you're waiting?"

"No, thank you—we're fine." Lee took a seat on the sofa and Amanda sat down next to him.

Michelle said nothing in reply—she stared at them for a few moments, twisting her fingers together.

"Is there something we can help you with?" Amanda asked.

"Well—it's nothing, really," Michelle replied. "I mean—I know it's probably none of my business, but I couldn't help overhearing a little bit of Steve's conversation on the phone earlier. I take it that this is something to do with Rebecca?"

"Yes, this does deal with Rebecca," Lee said.

Michelle drew in a deep trembling breath. "Somehow I thought so. What's she done now?"

Lee and Amanda exchanged glances.

"It isn't anything she's done," Amanda told the younger woman. "It deals with something she claims to have witnessed."

"Claims to have witnessed," Michelle repeated the words. "And you're some sort of police, right? Agents?"

"We're federal agents, yes," Amanda said. More silence. "So, if there's anything you can tell us—"

"No," Michelle shook her head. "But I can tell you one thing—Rebecca Colgan is nothing but trouble—and if I were you, I wouldn't trust that woman as far as I could throw her. She's insane."

"What my wife means if that we've had a lot of problems with Rebecca in the past," Steve Colgan said as he entered the room. He was a tall, thin man, with graying hair and penetrating blue eyes. "Come here, darling." He took his wife's hand, leading her over to the loveseat opposite the sofa where they both sat facing Lee and Amanda. "Rebecca's done a lot to us, so you'll forgive us if our feelings toward her are somewhat less than kind. What's all this about?"

"Your ex-wife claims that she witnessed something while jogging on the path above Little Creek Falls Dam," Lee replied. He watched Steve's face for any kind of reaction; if there was one, the man was very good at hiding it. "She says that she witnessed the murder of Charles Rendell." Again, he saw no reaction—not even a flicker of shock or surprise. "Are you familiar with that name?"

"Rendell?" Steve said. "No, afraid not. What does any of this have to do with me?"

"Your wife claims that you were responsible," Amanda said. "She claims that she witnessed you arguing with Charles Rendell and that you hit him a couple of times."

"What?" Michelle's voice rose. "Listen, I don't care what that crazy bitch claims she saw—she's lying through her teeth. And I'll tell you another thing—"

Steve held up his hand. "Michelle, please—I'm dealing with this."

"But, Steve, we can't just let her get away with this stuff—"

"I said that I'm dealing with it," Steve replied. Michelle fell silent, biting her lower lip. Steve looked back towards Lee and Amanda. "She claims that she saw me with this man near Little Creek Falls Dam? When was that, exactly?"

"Monday, the fifth of April," Amanda said. "The coroner's office places Mr. Rendell's death at sometime between 7 and 8:30 that morning—that's when Rebecca claims to have seen you."

"And that's all there is?" Steve asked. "That she said she saw me?"

"Not quite all," Lee told him. "We did a background that showed that both you and Charles Rendell attended Brown at roughly the same time and that you both did work with the Peace Corps."

Steve nodded. "It's certainly true that I did both of those things, but if I ever met a Charles Rendell, I certainly don't recall him."

No connection—exactly what he'd suspected. Lee looked over at Amanda—he couldn't even begin to guess what she was feeling at this moment. "Rendell also had connections with a group named Karbala," he said. "Have you ever heard of this organization?"

"Never," Steve replied firmly. "But all that aside, I can definitely prove where I was the morning of the murder—I was at a company meeting—we meet the first Monday of every month."

"And the company you work for is Atkinson Industries?" Amanda asked. Another nod from Rendell. "What time were you there?"

"From seven until half-past nine," Steve said. "The board of directors can attest that I was there and provide you with a copy of the minutes."

Amanda had known it was going to be a dead-end lead—somehow she'd known that all along—but it still felt like a blow.

'Back to the drawing board, Amanda.' The thought made her feel weary inside. She rose from the couch, Lee's arm supporting her. "Thank you, Mr. Colgan—I think that's all we'll need for now. You've been very helpful."

"Anything I can do," Steve Colgan replied. "I'm just sorry that my ex led you on this wild goose chase."

**SMK SMK SMK SMK **

**Winn Dixie **

**7:00 PM **

"Thanks for letting me drive here, Mom," Jenna said as they walked through the Kroger's parking lot. "I hope I parked okay."

"You parked just fine, sweetheart," Amanda told her. "The thing you have to remember is to try and get as close to the center of the space as possible."

"I try—it's just parking still makes me so nervous—I'm terrified of hitting something and I'm still not used to going backwards when I pull out."

"You just have to keep practicing—trust me—you'll get there."

Jenna grinned. "Yeah—and if I can get my license on my birthday I'll have it before all my friends and I can drive them around."

"Well that's certainly an idea," Amanda replied cautiously. The thought of his daughter with a license still made Lee very nervous, she knew—personally Amanda thought that Jenna's driving had definitely improved, but she still needed a lot of work. "We'll see what happens between now and then. Do you have the shopping list?"

"Here," Jenna fished the slightly crumpled list out of her purse and handed it to her. "I think I wrote everything down. I just put down 'meal for tomorrow' because I didn't know what you wanted to get."

"That all depends," Amanda said. The automatic doors opened with a hiss and they stepped into the supermarket. Grabbing the nearest cart, Amanda steered it towards the produce section. "What would you like to have tomorrow?"

"Hmm—" Jenna chewed her bottom lip, considering. "Oooh—we could have those nachos like Dad makes—you know with all the layers? We haven't had those in a while."

"Sweetheart, your dad and I have been awful busy lately—I don't know if he'd have the time to—"

"But I can make them—I know what to do. Please, Mom?"

"All right—just make sure we get everything we need."

"I will. We need ground beef, taco seasoning—" Jenna counted off the list on her fingers. "Cheese, lettuce, tomato, chips, refried beans—oh and sour cream. I think that's it."

"It sounds about right." Amanda pointed. "Go over there and get a couple of large tomatoes and I'll get us the lettuce."

"Okay," Jenna said. "Oh, can I get some conditioner too while we're here? I'm almost out."

"Of course you can—just hurry right back."

"Don't worry, I will."

Amanda looked down at the list she held. Grapefruit—she should get that while she was here. She grabbed a bag of the kind they usually bought—along with a bag of oranges. Now for lettuce—while she personally preferred the heads of lettuce she knew that Jenna liked the kind that came in the box because she didn't have to cut it. Amanda grabbed two of the plastic containers and put them in the cart. At that moment she looked up and her heart nearly stopped.

'Oh God…..' It couldn't be him—part of Amanda knew that it couldn't be—it wasn't possible—but still the thin build, the olive skin, the dark curly hair—even down to the way he carried himself. She couldn't see his face, but it was unmistakable.

Addi Birol. Amanda swallowed hard, fighting to control her breathing—the trembling that seemed to have spread throughout her entire body. She stood there, frozen, watching as the man turned his cart right and disappeared.

"Ma'am?" A stockboy stood there, staring at her. "Are you all right?"

"Yes." Part of Amanda was surprised that she could still speak. "Yes, I'm just fine—thank you."

'Have to get Jenna—' Her daughter wasn't safe—not when that man was around. She needed to get her and they both needed to get out of here right away, before—

Jenna—Amanda glanced towards the area where the tomatoes were, but her daughter was nowhere to be seen.

She'd been there a second ago, hadn't she? He couldn't have possibly taken her—not that quickly—it wasn't possible.

The last kidnapping had been fast too—hadn't it? The nagging voice seemed to whisper in Amanda's ear, filling her with dread. A few seconds by the front door and that had been it….

'I have to find her,' she thought. 'Before it's too late.'

She fought for calm as she steered the cart out of the produce section, moving in the direction that the man had taken and narrowly missing a young woman with two toddlers—Amanda gave a hasty apology as she passed.

"Jenna?" She raised her voice slightly as she called out. People gave her curious stares as she passed, but at the moment she didn't really care what anyone thought. "Jenna!"

"Mom?"

"Jenna," Amanda hugged her child tightly as a wave of relief washed over her. "Sweetheart you scared me half to death—I looked up and you weren't there." She broke off the hug and held Jenna at arms length, looking into her eyes. "Please, don't wander off like that, okay?"

"Wander off?" Jenna stared at her mother, her expression confused. "Mom, I didn't wander off—I went to get some conditioner. Remember?"

Conditioner, of course—Amanda remembered now.

Looking past Jenna down the aisle she spotted that man again, placing a large jar of spaghetti sauce into his cart—her heart raced—the noise thudding in her ears as the man turned around—

It wasn't him—he didn't look a thing like Addi Birol—she should've known that all along.

"Mom?" Jenna's voice penetrated her reverie. "What's wrong—what's going on?"

"Nothing—I guess I just forgot what you said you were going to get, that's all—I'm sorry." Hoping to forestall any further questions, Amanda gave Jenna another quick hug. "Let's get moving—if it's not dark outside I'll even let you drive home."

**SMK SMK SMK SMK **

**4247 Maplewood Dr**

**8:40 PM **

'In….hold….out.' Amanda silently repeated the words to herself as she lay flat on her bed, her eyes closed. She placed her hand on her chest, feeling as it inflated and then emptied with each breath. Her body certainly felt like it was beginning to relax—tension lessening—her muscles nice and loose—

Her mind, however, was another thing entirely. In her head she could still see that man—the fear that had coursed through her veins at the sight of him.

And then when she couldn't find Jenna….

'_He's taken her…' _The blind panic that had gripped her as she'd strode down the aisles, calling her daughter's name…

Why had she done that? Why had she acted that way? Amanda wasn't even sure if she had the answers to those questions.

Familiar footsteps sounded behind her. The bedsprings gave a slight squeak as his weight settled beside her. Amanda opened her eyes to see her husband smiling down at her.

"Hey there," she said.

"Hey there yourself, Mrs. Stetson" Lee's fingertips brushed lightly over her cheek. "How are you feeling?"

"A little better, I guess." Amanda pulled herself up to a sitting position. "I just still—I guess I don't why I acted like that." She drew in another deep breath and let it out. "I mean, I know that Birol's in prison, but when I saw that man at the store, I—" her voice broke off, unsure of what she was trying to say.

"When you saw him you just reacted," Lee said, finishing her sentence. He took her hands in his. "You didn't seem to be in control."

"Exactly." Amanda nodded. "My first thought was that someone had taken her—that I'd never see her again—and I guess I panicked. I don't know what Jenna must think now—"

"Hey, believe me—Jenna understands," Lee replied firmly.

"Maybe, but still—"

"No maybe—just listen. You've already told her that you're seeing Pfaff—and she knows what it's like to go through things like that. She understands."

"So I shouldn't be worried about her, then?" Amanda asked.

"Well, you might want to worry about her being out there on the road with innocent pedestrians—"

Amanda sighed. "Lee, I'm serious."

"I know." Lee squeezed her hands. "And like I said, Jenna's just fine."

"Yeah." Amanda stared down at the flowery pattern on the bedspread, the thoughts racing through her mind. Lee was right—Jenna would understand—she did understand—but still—

"Is that what I'm dealing with?" She asked aloud. "The same thing that Jenna went through—some sort of delayed reaction?"

"Amanda, honestly—I don't know," Lee said. "If you ask me, I still don't think this has anything to do with Birol." He paused, still holding her hands, running his thumbs along the top. "I know he's the one in your dreams, but I still don't think it's about him."

"Then what are they about? Amanda wanted to know. "Have you ever dealt with anything like this yourself?"

For a few moments Lee was just silent, his eyes staring straight ahead. "When you were shot in California," he said, his voice low. "For just a moment I flashed back to what had happened with Eric—my parents—I didn't want to lose anyone else that way." He squeezed her hands again and pulled her close, her head against his chest. "It wasn't until the doctor said that you would be all right that I really started to relax."

"But you did relax," Amanda reminded him. "And I keep thinking that I'll be able to relax once I find out that Birol isn't involved with Karbala anymore—but after what happened today, I just don't know."

"I don't know either," Lee admitted. "Amanda—I know I haven't always been a huge fan of Pfaff, but he has helped in the past—and I think in this case he can help you."

"Yeah, I think so too." She would see Pfaff during her lunch break, Amanda resolved—maybe even earlier if was free. Hopefully they'd be able to get to the bottom of this. Her eyelids were becoming heavy—she stifled a yawn with the back of her hand.

"Sleepy?" Lee asked her.

Another nod. "I had started to do the relaxation exercises when you came in."

"Hmm…" Lee murmured. "Well I can definitely help with that."

"You can, huh?"

"Oh, yes—definitely." His lips nuzzled against her neck—despite everything Amanda felt a small smile spread across her lips.

"Smiling is good, Mrs. Stetson." Lee said as he lowered himself back onto the pillows, still cradling his wife against his chest. "Now we start with the breathing—in and out, very slowly—" Lulled by his nearness and the sound of his voice, Amanda felt her muscles relaxing once more—slowly she allowed her eyes to close—

**TBC**


	4. Chapter 4

***For disclaimers, see Part One * **

**Ghosts from the Past-Ending and Epilogue**

**Friday, April 9, 2004**

**The Agency **

**12:30 PM **

"So you really thought that someone had actually kidnapped Jenna?" Dr. Pfaff asked. Just like before he sat on the sofa across from her, ice cream sandwich in hand. Part of his general routine, Amanda knew. Idly she wondered if any of the agents had ever accepted his offer of the sofa and the ice cream. Not that it was any of her business, of course—just general curiosity. Her eyes focused briefly on the painting above the mantle. Christina's World by Andrew Wyeth—Amanda remembered it from the art history course she'd taken at UVA—such a sad painting.

"Amanda?" Dr. Pfaff's voice brought her back to the present, reminding her that she still hadn't answered his question

"Sorry," Amanda replied hastily. "At the time, yes I did think that."

"Hmm." He took a bite of the ice cream. "You thought this even though you know that Birol's in prison?"

Spoken out loud it did actually sound ridiculous. "I didn't really think of that at the time," she confessed. "I just saw that man and I just reacted—I wasn't really in control."

"Even though you only saw him from the back."

"Yes, even then." Amanda could hear the defensiveness in her own tone. "I just knew that I needed to find my daughter and I panicked when she wasn't there."

"I see." Pfaff took another bite of his ice cream. "Have you panicked before with regards to Jenna?"

Amanda shook her head. "Not recently. I mean there were times after the kidnapping, but nothing in the past few years."

"After the kidnapping was understandable," Dr. Pfaff told her. "You realize that Jenna is much more capable of taking care of herself now."

"Believe me, I know that," Amanda replied. Lee had been teaching Jenna self-defense tactics for over a year now—there was even talk of letting her take a class at the Agency in the future. "But someone could still overpower her—drug her—it wouldn't be that difficult."

For a moment or two Dr. Pfaff just stared at her. "Sometimes the job that we do can color our view of the world," he said. "It can make us see danger even in the most innocent situations."

"Innocent situations can be turn out to be dangerous," Amanda spoke the words without even thinking. "I've seen it happen before."

"To be honest, so have I," Dr. Pfaff said. "But I don't think that Jenna's past problems are the main issue here."

Somehow she'd known that he was going to say that. "Then what is the problem?"

Dr. Pfaff finished the last of his ice cream, tossing the wrapper into the garbage. "How did you sleep last night?" he asked.

How—the abrupt change of subject took her aback for a moment. "I didn't have any nightmares," she said. "But I didn't sleep too well either."

"How do you mean?"

"Little things woke me up last night—little noises—things that don't usually bother me." As Amanda spoke her mind flashed back to last night—the sound of Jenna's door opening—her daughter's footsteps in the hallway had jerked her into a kind of half-wakefulness:

"_Sweetheart?" Amanda had called out. _

"_I'm fine Mom—I'm just going to the bathroom." _

"_Okay—I love you." _

"_Love you too, Mom." _

_Beside her Lee had stirred and murmured slightly but he hadn't awoken. Amanda, on the other hand, had lain there in the darkness, staring up at the ceiling, waiting for sleep to return. _

"Those things don't generally bother you?"

"No—I'm usually a pretty sound sleeper," Amanda replied. "And I've been doing the relaxation exercises before bed."

"Does that usually help?" he asked.

"It has before—just not last night." He didn't reply—instead he calmly sat there, waiting for her to continue. The silence was almost infuriating—Amanda took a deep breath, trying to put her thoughts into words. "Dr Pfaff, if this isn't about Jenna, and it's nothing to do with Birol, then what is it about? Why am I feeling this way?"

"What do you think it might be?"

"To be honest, I don't know." Amanda clasped her hands together tightly. "Lee was telling me last night how he felt that time I was shot—how he wasn't able to relax until he knew that I'd be all right. And I thought that once I confirmed Birol was part of Karbala that I'd be able to relax too."

"But now?"

"Now I'm not so sure," she confessed. "I mean—I knew that Birol was in jail yesterday but that didn't stop me from panicking when I thought I saw him at the supermarket."

"Any more leads on the case?"

"One—but it didn't go anywhere." Lee had checked out Steve Colgan's alibi and it had held—he was definitely at the meeting during the time of Rendell's murder. They'd tried to contact Rebecca but she hadn't answered the phone—personally Amanda thought that the woman might have witnessed the murder and simply placed her husband in the shoes of the actual killer.

Even if that was the answer, though—and even if they could contact Rebecca—there was no possible way to verify it—any of it.

'Our last lead, gone….' The thought frightened Amanda more than she cared to admit. That someone was still out there—and how close they'd come to her—to their family—for just a moment something tugged at the edges of her consciousness—but before she could get a hold of it, it was gone.

"I just want to find out what this is," she told him finally. "I want to stop feeling this way."

"I know you do—but the answer isn't something I can tell you—I think it's something you have to arrive at on your own." He stood. "I think we'll end this session here for now, Amanda—keep doing the relaxation exercises—I'll be available Tuesday if you need to talk."

**SMK SMK SMK SMK**

**Saturday, April 10, 2004**

**Kohl's Department Store**

**12:15 PM**

"Amanda, look at this—I think this would look just perfect."

Amanda eyed the dress her mother held—a figure-hugging black dress with a white jacket. "It's very nice—but don't you think it's just a little—well—daring?"

Dotty raised her eyebrows. "Actually, I hope that it's a lot daring," she replied. "This is going to be more than just an Easter dress—I'm planning on wearing it to the VFW Spring Fling at the end of this month."

Her mother never changed—despite everything that had been happening lately Amanda found herself smiling. "It'll be just perfect, mother. What do you think about this for Jenna?" She held up a lavender floral-print dress with three-quarter inch sleeves.

"She'll like it," Dotty said. "Trust me, it's very nice."

"I certainly hope so." Jenna was so picky about her clothes these days, Amanda thought. Generally she preferred to shop for herself, but today she was at home finishing up a paper for school. The only request her daughter had made of Amanda was that the dress not be too 'frilly' or 'baby-looking'—thankfully this was neither.

"Just make sure you get the right size," Dotty told her. "Do you realize that that child of yours has grown at least seven inches in the past three years?"

Amanda was about to reply that it wasn't really that surprising—Jenna did have tall parents, after all—when a dark shape barreled into her, nearly knocking her off balance and into a nearby clothing rack. .

"Oh my dear—I'm so sorry." An elderly woman with thick glasses looked up at her "Are you all right?"

"Yes," Amanda managed to say. "I'm just fine."

"I really must get my prescription looked at," the woman said, hastily smoothing her cardigan down over her skirt. "I seem to be tripping over my own feet these days. So clumsy—are you sure you aren't hurt?"

"No—no really I'm okay—are you all right?"

The woman chuckled. "I'm a lot tougher than I look, my dear. Oh dear—would you look at what's happened to your purse—"

Her purse—looking down, Amanda could see that the contents were scattered over the carpet.

"Here—" the woman quickly knelt, displaying an agility that belied her advanced age. "Let me just help you with these things—"

"I'll help her," Dotty spoke firmly. "She's my daughter."

"Well I—" She seemed flustered now—her mouth opened and closed. "I was only trying to help."

"Yes I know," Dotty said. "And thank you—I believe this is yours. Good day."

"Thanks very much." Now red-faced, the woman snatched the crumpled garment from Dotty's hands and rose to her feet, moving quickly away.

"Mother, I think she might have been just trying to help," Amanda said as she stuffed her wallet, keys and lipstick back into her handbag. "I'm sure that it was just an accident."

"Hmm—well, it might have been." Dotty replied. "But you know you can never really tell about someone."

You can never tell—her mother was right, of course—over the years Amanda had learned that appearances meant very little—that even the most innocent looking person could have something to hide.

But surely that sweet old lady hadn't been trying to—at the thought a chill ran through her body—she shivered slightly.

"Amanda—" Dotty's voice, full of concern, brought her back to the present. "Are you all right? You looked like you were miles away."

"Sorry—just had something on my mind, that's all," Amanda told her. "Listen, why don't we get ourselves some shoes while we're here and then we can try out that new coffee shop—Caribou Coffee on Crystal Drive—I hear it's really good."

Dotty smiled. "Sounds heavenly—and I think we definitely deserve a little treat—both of us."

Amanda smiled again. "Yes, I think we definitely do."

As they walked toward the shoe department they saw her again—the elderly woman, down on her knees, apologizing to a teenage girl. She looked about Jenna's age—maybe a little younger.

"I'm so sorry, my dear—your things are just all over the place now, aren't they?"

"Seriously, it's okay," the girl was telling her. "I can pick them up."

"Oh no, you must let me help you—it's the least I can do…."

Dotty and Amanda watched in silence as the woman's fingers closed over the girl's wallet—Amanda was about ready to march over there and confront her when a nearby security guard, who'd been watching the whole exchange, strode over there.

"Just one moment, ma'am." He took the wallet out of her hands and handed it back to the teenage girl. "I'm going to have to ask you to come with me now."

"Well—I never!" The woman huffed. The security guard said nothing in reply; he led the woman, still protesting, into the back of the store.

"You see what I mean about sweet old ladies?" Dotty asked.

Sweet old ladies—the cardigan—glasses—it all clicked into place.

'The first time that Karbala had come close to my family.' That was what she had told Dr. Pfaff. At the time she'd been connecting it with Birol—only it hadn't been Birol this time. It had been someone else entirely.

And all this time she'd been missing what was directly in front of her.

"Amanda?" her mother touched her arm.

"Sorry—I guess I just blanked out for a second," Amanda said. "Let's go—the sooner we get the shoes, the sooner we can sit down and get some coffee."

"I think you just read my mind," Dotty replied.

**SMK SMK SMK SMK **

**The Agency**

**Tuesday, April 13, 2004**

**9:30 AM **

"Mrs. Murphy," Amanda shook her head. She sat in Dr. Pfaff's office, in her usual chair. "That's who it was—what was bothering me. I can't believe I missed seeing it all this time."

"Actually, it's not all that surprising," Dr. Pfaff replied. "People often miss what's right in front of them—psychologically it's quite common."

"Yeah, I guess they do." Amanda said. "But seeing that woman in the store—that sweet old lady robbing people—that's what brought it all back."

"I see," he said. "And you were putting Birol there instead of Mrs. Murphy?"

"Yes—I guess maybe the reason I did that was that part of me didn't really want to see it."

Dr. Pfaff leaned forward. "Why do you think that was, Amanda?"

Why—she struggled for the right words to explain. "She just seemed so sweet at first—she was a volunteer—it seemed like she and the Colonel were growing close to one another—it was lots of things. And part of me didn't want to accept that someone like that could be involved with an organization like Karbala."

"I get what you're saying," Dr. Pfaff replied. "But if you think about it, this is not the first time you've encountered someone who isn't quite what they seem. It's happened before, hasn't it?"

"It has," Amanda agreed. Cooking show host Lydia Welch, Margaret Brock—the list went on and on. In Mrs. Murphy she'd seen the same thing. Amanda remembered the chill that had gone through her as she'd watched the woman from the surveillance van—seeing the ice and steel that had lain beneath the supposedly warm and motherly exterior once she'd thought the drug had taken effect.

"_Now we can get down to business," Mrs. Murphy had murmured, leaning over the colonel's helpless body. Her voice had changed—her demeanor—everything. As Amanda had watched the woman, she'd found herself thinking of that story by Robert Louis Stevenson she had read in Junior High—Jekyll and Hyde. _

That someone could hide in plain sight like that—

"Amanda?" Dr. Pfaff prompted her.

"It's the same thing I was saying before—with Birol," Amanda said. "Part of an agent's job is dealing with the fact that things aren't always what they seem—I do know that. And I do realize that Mrs. Murphy was only interested in the colonel as a source of information." She drew in a deep breath and let it out. "But at the same time this woman came so close to us—she met my mother—she probably even saw family photos."

"That doesn't exactly make her a threat to you—there's no evidence that she ever asked the colonel questions about you or your family."

"Everyone keeps saying that, yes," Amanda replied. "And they're probably right." At least I hope so, she added silently. "Another part of it is that I don't know how I missed it. Mother saw it right from the start and I kept telling her that she was making something out of nothing—I ignored the strange smell in the teacup—if there had been a threat to us I wouldn't have seen it until it was too late."

"How would you have seen it?" Dr. Pfaff said as he crouched down by his freezer, pulling out an ice cream bar—a fudgesicle this time. "You didn't even meet the woman. I don't suppose I can offer you a—"

"No, thank you, I'm fine. I know I didn't meet her—but I should've listened to my mother—I should've trusted her instincts and I didn't."

"Mrs. West does have good instincts." Dr Pfaff unwrapped his bar, taking a bite. "As do you. That's part of what makes you an effective agent. However, that doesn't mean that every hunch is always going to be right, does it?"

"No—no it doesn't."

"For all you or Lee knew, Mrs. Murphy might have been perfectly innocent," Dr. Pfaff continued. "You followed correct procedure and waited until you had enough evidence."

"But I didn't see what the old lady in the store was doing—mother did, and I didn't want to believe her—part of me didn't want to—just like before." She paused, collecting her thoughts. "You talked in the last session about how this job can color our view of the world—I've tried not to let it take away all my trust, but sometimes something that looks innocent can be very sinister. I'm sorry—I hope I'm making sense."

Dr. Pfaff nodded. "Perfect sense," he said. "And the job that we do is bound to make us lose some of our innocence—it goes with the territory. At the same time, however, you don't want to let it make you too jaded—not to the point where you develop burnout or shadow-shock. Personally I think you've struck a good balance."

A good balance—Amanda thought—it didn't always feel that way. "What about Mrs. Murphy and Karbala?"

"Another lead may still turn up—though I wouldn't let it become an obsession." Dr. Pfaff tossed the wrapper and the stick into the nearby wastepaper basket. "Incidentally—how have you been sleeping since Saturday?"

"Better—I've been doing the relaxation exercises and I've been sleeping through the night. "

"Good," Dr Pfaff stood. "You should keep doing those. But I think you'll find that things will be easier now that you know what's behind all this. And I'm always here if you need to talk."

"Thank you," Amanda replied. "I'll remember that."

**SMK SMK SMK SMK **

**4247 Maplewood Dr**

**5:30 PM**

"Here you go," Dotty handed her daughter a cup of tea. "It's nice and hot."

"Thank you, Mother." Amanda held the warm mug between her hands as she slowly sipped the hot liquid. From the kitchen she could hear the faint voices of Lee and Jenna as they prepared dinner—one of Jenna's home-ec projects. "Believe me, this hits the spot."

"Well, there's nothing like a good afternoon tea—that's what I always say," Dotty replied, taking a seat on the sofa beside Amanda. "So that's what you've been upset about all this time? Mrs. Murphy?"

Amanda nodded. "It just took me a while to realize it, that's all." She didn't mention Birol—one of the things that her mother wasn't cleared to know about.

"I see," Dotty said. "And does any of this have to do with what happened on Saturday? Don't look so surprised, Amanda—those instincts of yours did not come out of thin air, you know."

"Yes I know," Amanda admitted. "And that was part of it. Seeing that woman and what she did—it helped me to face what was really bothering me"

"That makes sense." Dotty took a sip of her tea. "Though if you ask me, the woman we saw was small potatoes when compared to Mrs. Murphy—just the thought of that woman is enough to make me shudder."

"True. Part of me wishes that I had listened to you about Mrs. Murphy from the very beginning—I feel like I kind of blew you off, and I shouldn't have done that."

"Amanda, you did not blow me off," Dotty said. "To be honest, I didn't even believe me at first. You just told me you needed more evidence, which I got."

"You definitely did," Amanda replied. "And you did a very good job, mother."

"Well of course—your espionage skills didn't come out of thin air either."

Amanda smiled. "Yes, I know that too."

"Speaking of Mrs. Murphy, have there been any more leads?"

"No, I'm afraid not." Amanda took another sip of her tea. "But believe me, we haven't stopped looking."

"It's like I said before—that woman is bound to turn up sooner or later."

"Sooner or later," Amanda repeated the words. While part of her hoped that maybe Mrs. Murphy had moved on—decided it wasn't worth the risk—the other part of her knew that would be too easy—far too easy.

Mrs. Murphy would return, she knew—the only question was where, and when. The realization made her shiver.

Amanda glanced out the window—for a moment she froze, barely daring to breathe as she saw the elderly woman walking down the block, dog on a leash. As if in slow motion the woman turned—

'It's not her—of course it isn't.' Amanda thought, relief washing over her. Lifting her hand she waved to Mrs. Gilstrap—the woman smiled and waved back.

"Amanda," Dotty placed a hand on her arm, looking into her eyes. "Listen to me now. I do know that if and when she does turn up, you and Lee will be more than a match for her. Trust me."

"I do," Amanda began. "Really. It's just that—" her train of thought was interrupted as a loud clatter came from the kitchen.

"Oops—" Jenna's voice. "Oh no—"

"Sweetheart?" Amanda called out. "What is it?"

"It's fine," came Lee's reply. "Nothing's broken—we're handling it."

"Tell me what she's making again?" Dotty asked.

"Umm—it's broiled steak with horseradish, parsley potatoes and asparagus with hollandaise sauce." Amanda quoted from the menu that Jenna had relayed to her earlier. Personally she wondered if that was a little ambitious for a first meal, but Jenna had assured her that she could handle it with no problem. "Lee's just supervising the broiler—she's not used to using it just yet."

"Sounds good," Dotty said.

At that moment Lee came in from the kitchen.

"The steak is done," he announced. "And Jenna shooed me out—she told me she could finish up the potatoes and asparagus on her own—I'm going to take her word on that."

Amanda reached up, giving her husband's hand a brief squeeze. "I'm sure she appreciated how much you helped her," she said. "How does it look?"

"Actually for a first attempt it looks pretty good." Lee replied.

Another clatter sounded from the kitchen—Dotty rose to her feet.

"I think I'll go help Jenna out." she said. "Give you two a chance to talk." Dotty left the room and Lee took a seat beside his wife.

"You okay?" asked her quietly.

Amanda drew in a deep breath. "Actually, I think I am—or at least I'm better—I will be better— now that I know what's really been bothering me." She knew that she was rambling now, but she had to get it all off her chest. "I just keep remembering what that woman did—how close she got before we finally caught her and we didn't even suspect at first—Lee, she might have—"

"She might have," Lee told her. "She might have done a lot of damage. But she—we stopped her, remember? We shut the organization down."

"For now," Amanda said. "This part of the organization. But she's still out there."

Lee took her hands in his, squeezing tightly. "If she turns up again, we'll deal with her—this time we'll be ready. Deal?"

We'll be ready—basically the same thing that her mother had said earlier. "It's a deal," she agreed.

**SMK SMK SMK ****SMK**

**2500 Garfield Dr., Newport News, VA**

**Saturday, April 24, 2004**

**4:30 P****M**

"That's very good, Jasmine," Mrs. Murphy congratulated the little girl as she used a spoon to scoop the last of the batter and place it on the greased cookie sheet. Outside the sky was grey and cold—thunder rumbled ominously in the distance. "Now we'll just pop these in the oven, and once they're done we can decorate them with some frosting—how does that sound?"

Jasmine smiled shyly. "Good," she said. "Can we maybe use pink icing?"

"Yes, of course we can, love," Mrs. Murphy said. Opening the oven, she popped the cookie sheet inside and set the timer. "We can even make a special cookie for everyone in your family if you like."

"That sounds nice," Jasmine replied. "'Cept we can't really make one for my daddy, 'cause he's overseas."

"Well that's all right—he can always have a cookie when he gets back, can't he? Here you go—you're lucky that I have some of this lying around." Mrs. Murphy handed the child a squeeze bottle of pink icing. "Why don't you practice drawing on the wax paper while we're waiting?"

"Okay."

For a moment Mrs. Murphy just watched the child—her small face a mask of concentration as she squirted zigzags and curlicues onto the wax paper.

"Tell me," she began, keeping her tone very casual. "Is your Daddy in the military?" She figured that he might be—this housing was close to Fort Eustis—the main reason that she'd chosen to live here. Most everyone in this area was employed with the government in some capacity.

A shake of the head. "Uh-huh. He's in the Army."

"Oh, of course," Mrs. Murphy said. "Do you know where they sent him?"

"Someplace with a lot of sand."

She should have known better than to ask that, She silently chided herself. One would hardly expect a child Jasmine's age to know details like that. "Do you ever get to talk with him?"

"Yeah." Jasmine carefully wrote what looked like a 'J' on the wax paper. "I talk on the phone sometimes—and sometimes he sends email."

"That must be nice to be able to talk with him like that."

"Yeah." Jasmine's tone indicated that she was fast losing interest in this train of conversation. Mrs. Murphy decided to let it go, at least for now.

"You're doing very well with that frosting," She told the child. The oven timer buzzed. Using a potholder Mrs. Murphy removed the cookies and set them on the rack to cool. From his spot on the kitchen windowsill Mr. Whiskers let out a plaintive meow.

"You'll get yours in due time, you little beggar," Mrs. Murphy told him.

"Does he want a cookie?" Jasmine asked.

"No—I don't think a cookie would be too good for old Mr. Whiskers," Mrs. Murphy replied. "Perhaps we can give him some kitty treats a little while later—but only if he behaves."

"Only if you behave," Jasmine told the cat with mock sternness. Mr. Whiskers meowed again and she giggled. At that moment the doorbell rang.

"That's probably your mother. Keep practicing with the icing," Mrs. Murphy told Jasmine. She had actually expected her until a little later, but she'd babysat enough to know that peoples' schedules were rarely set in stone. She went to the front door and unlocked it. Just as she had suspected, Mrs. Levene stood there, shaking droplets of rain from her umbrella.

"I got off earlier than I thought I would, Mrs. Maxwell," she explained breathlessly. "I hope that Jasmine behaved for you."

Mrs. Maxwell—part of her was still getting used to hearing that. "She was a perfect angel," Mrs. Murphy held the door open wider, letting the woman come in. "We were just baking cookies in the kitchen—right this way."

"You certainly have a beautiful home," Mrs. Levene said.

"Well I had a nice tidy sum, saved up." Mrs. Murphy explained. "And I do like beautiful things." She pushed open the kitchen door and Jasmine looked up from her work.

"Hi Mommy," she said. "Can I stay a little longer? I was going to put icing on the cookies."

Mrs. Levene hesitated. "Sweetheart, I'd love to," she said. "But we really do need to get home and start dinner."

"But Mommy—"

"Why don't you take the cookies and the icing with you?" Mrs. Murphy suggested. "That way you can decorate them at home."

Mrs. Levene hesitated. "That's a very nice idea," she said. "But we certainly don't wish to impose—"

"No imposition at all, I assure you." Mrs. Murphy said. "Just let me find a container to put the cookies in and we'll be in business." She opened the top cupboard and found a tupperware box with a lid. "Jasmine was telling me that Mr. Levene is overseas?"

"Yes," Mrs. Levene replied. "He was sent to Afghanistan last month. We've been keeping in touch—but it's been one day at a time if you know what I mean."

"I do, believe me," Mrs. Murphy placed the now-cooled cookies into the box and sealed the lid. "Mr. Maxwell was a colonel in the Air Force—it could make life very hectic sometimes. Here you go." She handed Mrs. Levene the box. "Enjoy."

Mrs. Levene smiled. "Thank you so much."

"You're quite welcome," Mrs. Murphy said. "I'm always here to watch Jasmine—and if you'd ever like to come over for a cup of tea you're more than welcome—military people need to stick together, you know."

The woman's smile widened. "Thank you—a cup of tea would be lovely."

**SMK SMK SMK SMK **

"Who are you?" The heavily-accented voice on the other end of the line demanded. "And how did you get this number?"

"Well with regards to how, let's just say that I have my ways," Mrs. Murphy told him. She sat on the sofa with her feet up on the coffee table—the afghan wrapped around her legs. The television was on but the volume was set to low—some sitcom was on—Mrs Murphy watched in bemusement as a dark-haired woman on the screen ran around the apartment dressed in nothing but a towel. "As to who I am, Mr. Faisal, let's just call me Mrs. Murphy."

"Ah, the famous Mrs. Murphy," the man replied. "We did wonder what had happened to you. You do realize that you left Mr. Rendell in a somewhat unfortunate situation?"

"What happened to Rendell was unfortunate," she told him. "But my first loyalty has always been to myself—and Karbala, of course."

"You know about Karbala?"

The woman was still running around in the towel—absently Mrs. Murphy wondered if it would make more sense with the sound up. Somehow she doubted it. "I think you'll find that I know about a great deal of things—as I said I have my ways."

"Rendell said you were his best operative," Faisal said. "But obviously he underestimated you. And what exactly is it that you can do for me?"

"The same as I've done before—intelligence gathering." Mr. Whiskers strolled over, butting her legs affectionately with his head—leaning over she scratched the large ginger cat between his ears. "Only this time I would be reporting directly to you rather than through an intermediary. I would need supplies of course—and time to set up my network. But I assure you that I can and will deliver."

Silence—for a moment she thought she'd overplayed her hand—that he'd hung up on her. Finally he answered. "Whatever you need is yours—just let me know. Welcome aboard, Mrs. Murphy."

She smiled. "You won't regret it—I assure you."

**The End?**


End file.
